Nocturnal Requiem
by gopherbroke
Summary: Mainly Phantom's POV, but some Christine. Explores the more heart wrenching emotions. Almost a retelling,of ALW 2004 movie... but I havent decided about the ending...perhaps it will be up to you guys.. Rated M for future chapters
1. Awakening

**A/N** Hey guys! This is the first fan fic that I have posted, although it is not the first I have written. I am still getting used to the system...so there will probably be a few mixups...knowing me. Lol. I hope you guys like it. I just wanted to crawl in Erik's mind and sit there as an observer. It was fun although it made me cry...I'm such a girl...:). This is based off the 2004 ALW movie. snif...poor wittle ewik... The chapters are most often on the shorter side, longer ones will probably come soon. Please...please...please review.

**Disclaimer.** I own nothing. Except Erik's little heart.

**Chapter One- Awakening**

She was there; she was his. Her eyes stared up into his own, reflecting the haunting of both innocence and desire. He slowly reached out to touch the soft form of her cheek, only able to hear the heavy pulse that bled from his heart. Her lips parted to allow the escape of a long withheld breath and she leaned into his caress. His bare fingers collided with the soft cream of her skin. Then she was gone. The tangible figure he longed to be real slid through his trembling fingers and he fought back the onslaught of rage. He opened his eyes, staring at the dark arches of his cave. Furious, he kicked back the blankets and pounded his fist into the soft black satin. Once again his dream was broken and he was only left with the isolation and solitude he had come to despise. Tears stung his eyes, burning hot wet paths into his skin as he lay still, giving into silence.

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_I have to see her, _he decided as he fastened his heavy black cape around his neck. It could wait no longer. Her success at tonight's performance would secure any gratitude she might feel for him. It was tonight he would finally reveal himself to her, a task he never thought he would ever perform…to anyone.

He wiggled his fingers into tight leather gloves, the midnight color adding to the dark shadows that made up his ensemble. A small grin softened the intensity of his face as he stepped into his boat. Maybe tonight his dream would finally become the reality he yearned for.


	2. Revelation

**A/N** Chapter Two!...WOOT! It's gonna get good soon, I promise.

**Disclaimer.** I own nothing. Except Erik's little heart. I think I'll name it Nubbin.

**Chapter Two- Revelation**

His boots gently sent series of ripples through the puddles that littered the damp hallway. It was obscenely dark, but this was his home and he carefully walked in the pitch black, knowing exactly when to step aside and avoid the hidden traps and mechanisms that prevented intruders.

_But tonight is going to be different_, he thought. He was no longer going to be hidden from her eyes, no longer melded in the shadows. He rounded a corner and grabbed a torch, it immediately igniting at his touch. The fire illuminated the window at the end of the hall, the window that had held him back all this time. He breathed against the glass and stared through its transparency. There she was, a rarity amongst beauty, the one thing for which his heart longed.

_She is the one who will heal my song. She is the one who will sing my soul. _His finger traced the outline of her curvy figure through the window. He was captivated by her and time faded from his consciousness as he watched her.

The closing of a door shook him from his tranquil state.

Him.

It was the boy who had invaded the claims to Box Five. _My box._ Erik thought with a scowl.

He watched as the boy made his way to Christine, each step making Erik more and more uncomfortable.

_Leave…leave now! Nobody wants you here! _Erik shouted in his head. Then he noticed the smile on Christine's face as she saw the boy approach.

_No._

The two began to embrace and Erik's rage exploded. But he watched silently as the boyish arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. For the first time in his miserable life, he felt helpless. _Those should be my arms. That should be my shoulder that her chin rests upon. That should be me. _He bit hard into his lip, staining his tongue with blood. With a whip of his cape, he was gone, running down another tunnel, the plans to rid the night of this boyish intrusion fresh in his mind.

_That will be me. _


	3. Exclusion

**A/N:** Just a little inside to Erik's and Madame Giry's relationship. It also shows more of Erik's possessiveness and rage. Christine and Erik finally meet in the next chapter...WOOT.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing...claim nothing...except Nubbin.

Chapter Three-Seculsion

Erik rounded a corner, his fury making him oblivious to his surroundings and he absentmindedly set off one of his traps, narrowly missing the consequences. He slowed his pace in an effort to be more careful and allowed his mind to dwell more on the newfound hate he had for this 'Vicomte De Chagny'

_Who does he think he is, asking my Angel to supper?_ Erik stopped and fumed. He readjusted his mask and started down the hallway at an alarming pace.

"I will not have it!" he shouted to the damp air.

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Upon reaching his exit he stopped for a few minutes, catching his breath and making sure his appearance was perfect. He wrapped his cape around him and slipped out through a wall- straight into the path of Madame Giry.

"Erik…" she whispered

"Madame." He replied solemnly. He tucked the noose back into is pocket, ashamed that his reflexes were not able to recognize his old friend.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, her voice guarding suspicion.

"Christine. I have come for her."

Her eyes widened briefly.

"The Vicomte has informed me that he will be taking her out to supper…" she said, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"You have been misinformed." Erik was growing impatient with the scrutiny from Madame Giry. He came for Christine, not for conversation.

"Madame, if you please," he started, "I have business to attend to."

From under his cape he produced a large skeleton key, a heavy tassel hanging from its end. Madame gasped.

"Erik, you do not intend to keep her locked in her dressing room all night?"

"I can assure you Madame, she will not be in the dressing room."

Wariness crept into the woman's face. Erik sighed. Her care for the girl was heartfelt.

"Behind the mirror." He said wearily.

"Another entrance?"

He nodded slightly, shifting his weight uncomfortably. This conversation had gone on long enough. He could wait no longer. He made his way to Christine's door when Giry's voice interrupted.

"Take care of her, Erik."

He gave another slight nod and pushed the key into the lock, turning it quietly until it clicked. Madame Giry gave him a long look before walking away. She turned to look back at him. He was gone.


	4. Through the Looking Glass

**A/N**: Thank you so much to my five beautiful reviewers...I can't stress how much I appreciate it. Here is another small installment. I will update more soon. I have decided, however, to drift away from the ALW version a little, as much as I adore the plot he created, I want to have a little fun and create one of my own. insert evil laugh here

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Phantom of the Opera is regretably not mine and I stake no claims. Nubbin is and always will be mine, however. moo ha ha

**Chapter Four. Through the Looking Glass.**

He gently picked up the torch from where it had angrily fallen. It did not ignite; he kept it black and smoldering, making sure not to reveal his hiding place as he approached the mirror once more. His muscles tightened when he stared to find the room empty.

_There is no way she could have gotten out. _He started to panic. _Giry wouldn't have betrayed me. Where is she? Where is my angel!_

A slight rustling shook him out of his growing fury and he relaxed, his entire body sighing in relief. She was still there, only obscured by a changing screen.

_Oh…I forgot, _he thought sarcastically_. She must get ready for supper._

His lips curled into a smirk at the thought of the Vicomte struggling to figure out why his 'Little Lotte' stood him up.

_Hehehe…_

She emerged from behind the screen and the laugh was immediately wiped from his thoughts. His body stiffened again, although for entirely different reasons. Every curve of her womanly figure was enhanced with the skimpy bits of fabric that she thought she could conceal herself behind. White lacy stockings crept their way up her legs, stopping to reveal the pale skin of her upper thighs. Her breasts were pressed tight against her lacy corset, each breath forced against them causing them to swell. He couldn't look away; she was enrapturing.

His hand tightened around the torch. Never in his life had he ever wanted something so badly. He had to take her. He had to at least have the chance to make her his. As she slowly moved towards the door he slid the mirror open a crack, the cool draft from the catacombs blowing through the room and extinguishing the small cluster of candles. She jumped, suddenly consumed by mild darkness. It was at that very moment that he released the most powerful weapon he had ever known.

His voice.

* * *

Christine stopped as she heard the tremendous sound surround her. The voice caressed her and sent her shivering in places only known to a woman. She responded. There would never be a time when she could refuse her Angel. All thoughts of dinner and the Vicomte were swept from her mind as the Angel's voice flooded her being. There was only here and now.

_And…him…_Christine thought curiously as a form began to appear through her mirror. _My Angel…is a man. _

She followed the trail of his voice until they were face to face. Awed, Christine could not stop staring up into his eyes. Even in the shadows, they were filled with such passion and there was nothing that could stop her from taking his extended hand.

…_A man…_

* * *

His breath caught in his throat the moment she placed her tiny hand in his large leather glove.

_Is this real? Is that really her flesh in my own? Is that really her touch? Can God be so kind as to grant me my dream? Or is this just another misery in the joke that is my life?_

Her fingers tightened around his and the back of his eyes began to sting. She was really there. That was really her. He found a sudden hatred for the gloves, as they restrained against his own skin, longing to feel her touch. Carefully, he began to lead her down the hall, the torch, now ignited, casting a golden sheen to the dank walls.

* * *


End file.
